


A Question of Humanity

by piperset



Category: The West Wing
Genre: A bit of angst maybe, College Debates, Danny is actually a socialist in this one oops, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Foreign Policy, If you know anything about actual international relations please don't read this too closely, Marriage, Politics, Post-Series, Teaching, post Bartlet Administration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28993398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piperset/pseuds/piperset
Summary: What happens when a scruffy ex-White House reporter and the former Chief of Staff start to see the world beyond the constraints of DC politics.
Relationships: Danny Concannon/C. J. Cregg
Comments: 41
Kudos: 15





	1. The Golden State

**Late April, 2010**

**University of California, Los Angeles**

The midafternoon sunlight poured in through the windows of the Communications Building, bathing the mahogany desk where Danny Concannon sat in a wash of warm radiance. April had been oppressively hot that year, and even though a robust central air system kept his office at a survivable temperature, Danny was dreading what his car would feel like once he left to pick up CJ from the airport. 

It was past the time when most university classes ended, but he could hear the lively chatter of students strolling down Royce Drive from outside his window. Danny presumed they were headed to Professor Geller’s lecture at the Geography Center. He probably would’ve gone, too – Miranda was an incredible speaker – if CJ hadn’t been on her way back from Philadelphia. He made a mental note to ask his class about the talk tomorrow. 

It had taken a few months for Danny to get used to the pace of life in California, and even longer to feel truly at home in the realm of academia. Having grown up in Michigan and attended college in South Bend, the lethargic glamor of the West Coast proved to be a dramatic adjustment, even after spending so many years abroad. Westwood regulars walked even slower than tourists at the Smithsonian, and while there was no dearth of brilliant minds among the faculty at UCLA, Danny occasionally found himself feeling as if his tenure there was little more than a brilliant dream. Indeed, when he was hired as an assistant professor in the fall of 2007, Danny had felt more than a little like an imposter. He found he was popular with the students, though, and his colorful stories from the White House beat combined with his affinity for Socratic dialogues eventually cemented his favorable reputation. 

It also helped that CJ absolutely flourished in the sun. She’d taken her work at the Hollis foundation in stride, and was more receptive than she’d ever been during her time in DC. Over the three years they’d lived in Santa Monica, Danny had taken a special pleasure in watching the hardness in her eyes, which had accumulated over her time as Chief of Staff, melt away. There were still setbacks, obviously – building a brand new life in your mid forties was no walk in the park – but the couple had, for the most part, stayed true to their promise of working through the roadblocks together. And by some miracle of God, Lydia Cregg-Concannon had come along in the spring of 2009, with both her and CJ thankfully unscathed by the high risk pregnancy. He would have happily worked through ten more presidential terms if he’d known that was what came after. 

At the moment, though, Danny was in Professor Concannon mode. The assessment he was grading was relatively mindless work (just a comprehension check on Media Law), which left his mind free to ruminate on a meeting with students he’d had earlier that day. There was a cohort of sociology majors in his “Ethics Issues in Reporting” class who were drafting an opinion piece for the  _ Daily Bruin  _ calling for the university to participate in the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions Movement in response to a recent slew of brutal arrests during a pro-Palestine protest in Gaza. They’d asked him to look over their article, and, while their language was passionate at best and downright inflammatory in parts, Danny couldn’t help but be impressed by how succinctly the group made their point. At the  _ Post _ , Danny had never been assigned to report from the region, and as a result, his understanding of the Israel/Palestine conflict had been largely influenced by former President Bartlet’s cautious pursuit of a two-state solution. He was also dimly aware that Professor Geller and her wife were involved with the LA chapter of Jewish Voice for Peace, but most of the history department liked to pretend they weren’t. 

No, what was really eating at Danny was how incrementalist the Democratic Party looked from afar. Danny had always considered his political beliefs to fall comfortably on the left, but he’d spent a lot of time pushing them out of the way during his time as a reporter. And, although as a teacher he was expected to be similarly unbiased, the political diversity of a college campus far outstretched the acceptable ideas in Washington. Concepts like economic imperialism and indigenous sovereignty, which floated around casual campus discussions every day, were simply unheard of in the White House, no matter the party. As a result, Danny’d done his fair share of ideological self discovery during his stay in Santa Monica. 

A quick glance at his watch told Danny that it was time to go pick up CJ at LAX. He texted Lydia’s babysitter, Nadine, an ETA, then he packed up what was left of his work and made his way over to the staff parking lot. He’d been right, the door handle on his Prius nearly gave him a first degree burn, but his excitement at seeing CJ kept him in a good mood as he started the drive through West Los Angeles. 

Danny rolled down the windows as he merged onto 405, the air warm and sweet as it streamed through the car. The radio was playing a song by Taylor Swift which he enjoyed more than he cared to admit, and the clean, country-style guitar chords were a nice compliment to the sound of the beachy wind outside. Thoughts of leftist discourse were wiped from Danny’s mind as he concentrated his attention on the things CJ was likely to do to him later that night, after they got Lydia to bed – that was something neither of them had ever gotten tired of, even after three years of cohabitating. 

When he finally pulled into the terminal at LAX, CJ’s flight was just emptying into the gate. He grinned when he caught a glimpse of her, her tall stature and general air of importance making her easy to spot amongst the crowd. She was looking around for Danny, a bit dazed (she’d probably downed an Ambien on the ride home), but she eventually caught sight of him and they ran to embrace each other. CJ's lips tasted like mint chapstick and ginger ale as she kissed him, and it took all of Danny’s restraint to refrain from pulling her into the nearest bathroom stall and jumping her like a teenager.

“Hey, you,” CJ said, smiling sleepily as she pulled away.

“Hey.” 

CJ kissed him again for good measure. “How’s Lydia?”

Danny put his hand in hers as they made their way over to baggage claim. “She’s with Nadine. How was the flight?”

“Too short.” She surveyed the area for her luggage. “I didn’t get to finish  _ Wall-E _ .”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You watched  _ Wall-E _ on the plane?”

“Part of it,” CJ answered, catching sight of her shiny black suitcase as it made its way around the conveyor belt and walking over to grab it. She looked indignantly back at Danny, who was smirking a bit. “For your information, it was quite well done.”

“Sure.”

“It says a lot about where our world is headed.”

“You think?”

She grabbed the suitcase. “Are you gonna help me with this?”

Danny took CJ’s bag and began dragging it behind him as they left the terminal. “Well, if the world is gonna end within the next ten years,” he remarked, “it’s a good thing we’ve got Claudia Jean Cregg on the job.”

“You don’t need to flatter me, Danny,” she replied without missing a beat. “I’m going to fuck you senseless when we get home no matter what you do.”

Danny grinned. “I guess it’s by nature of my position, huh?”

“That, and also that you look adorable in your professor clothes.”


	2. The Golden State (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exhausted CJ heads home after half a week in Philadelphia, much to the delight of Danny and her daughter, Lydia. While the Hollis Foundation is nowhere near as demanding as her work in the White House was, CJ's mind is nonetheless preoccupied with a few exchanges from the trip.

**Later that day**

The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time they entered Santa Monica, the last few incident rays scattered about the landscape haphazardly as if by a lazy painter. CJ sat in with her eyes closed and her head tilted back against the headrest, her hand resting comfortably on her husband’s thigh as he drove. 

She never got tired of returning to California, and tonight was no exception. Her meetings in Philly had been with a pair of Ugandan organizers – after the success of the Hollis Foundation’s initial infrastructure campaign in Namibia, they were refocusing their efforts around the Lake Victoria region. Mr. Otim and Ms. Akullu had been cordial enough and more than open to further collaboration, but the whole time she was there, CJ had gotten the sense there was some underlying hostility (possibly directed towards her? She wasn’t sure). CJ didn’t like things bubbling below the surface; she’d spent enough time ignoring subliminal tensions during her time in Washington to be wary of the danger. But regardless, she’d made it through the week, and after a few slightly patronizing conversations with Frank Hollis, CJ was glad to be on her way home. 

“Lydia’s gonna be one pretty soon,” she mused, her eyes still closed, the wind whipping at her hair.

“Yeah.”

“Weird how that happens.”

Danny smiled, his gaze still fixed on the road. He was a very intelligent driver, which was something CJ appreciated about him. “Isn’t it?”

“We should do something.”

“I’m down. Got any ideas?”

CJ opened her eyes and sat up groggily. “I don’t know. What do one-year-olds like?”

“It’s hard to say. Lydia seems to enjoy playing with Tupperwares.”

“Can’t blame her for that.”

“We could get her a goldfish,” Danny mused. “Gail looks to be on her last legs.”

“ _ Danny– _ ”

He laughed. “Easy, I’m just messing with you. Although, come to think of it, we’ve had her for what, eleven years?”

“Goldfish have long lives,” she said indignantly. "And it's bold of you to say _we_. I believe she sat in _my_ office for about six years before you got custody."

"Well, I did buy her fish food that one time."

CJ's eyes narrowed. "One time."

“Yeah, well. She’s seen a lot is my point.”

CJ chuckled in spite of herself. “You’re not wrong.” They were entering their neighborhood now, and CJ was glad to see the familiar line of Jacaranda trees that announced the start of their street. They were in full bloom, and the sidewalks were blanketed with lavender petals. “How are the future gossip hounds of America doing?”

“If you mean my journalism students, they’re certainly committed,” Danny replied as he pulled into their driveway, being careful to avoid hitting Nadine’s bike, which was tied to the mailbox. He turned off the Prius and went to grab CJ’s luggage from the back. “What they lack in subtlety they make up for in passion.”

CJ laughed as she climbed out of the car. “Don’t be too hard on them. You were never exactly the king of subtlety yourself.”

He shot her a knowing smile. “I couldn’t afford to be. Seducing the press secretary is a risky business. It was go big or go home.”

CJ grinned and shook her head as she dug around her purse for the keys. “I still don’t entirely know how you managed to do it.”

Danny shrugged. “At least fifteen members of the Press Corps had money riding on it. I couldn’t disappoint.”

CJ rolled her eyes, but took Danny’s free arm in hers as they made their way up to the front steps. She raised the key to unlock the door, but before she could, the door swung open and she was met with the good natured face of Nadine Rypka, who was holding their 11-month-old daughter securely in her arms. 

“Jumped the gun a bit there, didn’t you?” CJ remarked, beaming at Nadine as she let herself into the house with Danny following behind.

“We saw you two pulling up. I don’t think she wanted to miss it,” Nadine replied, gesturing to baby Lydia before handing her over to her mother.

CJ looked adoringly at her daughter, who was babbling happily and had a stream of spit running down the side of her chin. Lydia was a good-looking kid; her reddish blonde hair already showed signs of growing into an unruly mess of curls like her father’s. Lydia’s green-grey eyes, however, were mirrors to CJ’s own. 

“Any developments?” CJ asked as she sat herself down at a stool beside the kitchen counter and bounced Lydia lightly on her thigh. 

Nadine shook her head. “Not really. She had a small tantrum this morning, but slept well enough during the afternoon. You caught her in a good mood, though, I think she’s a bit tired out from the crying.”

“You want something to eat?” offered Danny as he made his way over to the kitchen. “I think I’ve got some pasta in the fridge.”

Nadine shook her head. “Thanks, but I should probably be heading home. I’ve got an Orgo exam tomorrow.” She turned to where Lydia was seated in CJ’s arms. “Nice seeing ya, Lyd!”

Lydia let out an excited string of syllables, two of which sounded impressively close to “Nadine,” and then proceeded to burp. CJ wiped the dribble off her chin with her shirtsleeve. “Thanks for everything, Nadine. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it.”

Nadine smiled as she gathered her things. “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Cregg. I hope things are going well with the Hollis Foundation.” She turned to Danny. “And I’ll see you around campus, Professor Concannon!” CJ knew that as a graduate student in biology and a humanities professor, the two rarely ever crossed paths, but she figured the sentiment was what mattered. Besides, CJ liked how sensible Nadine was – despite having grown up watching CJ on C-SPAN, she didn’t act weirdly around her or Danny. 

Danny handed Nadine a pre-counted wad of cash, which she accepted gratefully before saying one final goodbye and then leaving. Danny watched her through the window as she untied her bike, then turned to CJ, who had made her way over to the couch and proceeded to let Lydia nurse at her breast.

“Want me to call for some takeout?” Danny asked, collapsing next to CJ and putting an arm around her. “We’re a little low aside from the pasta. I’ll get groceries tomorrow.”

“Sure,” CJ agreed, her exhaustion creeping into her voice. “That was a hell of a trip.”

“Everything okay?” Danny's tone was understanding. 

CJ shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I got everything done that needed to happen. Margaret was very helpful.” She paused. “I just–” 

“What is it?”

CJ thought for a moment and shook her head, smiling to herself. “Nothing. It’s good work, and it’s stressful, that’s all.” She managed a smile. “I’m glad to be doing it.”

Danny could tell she had more to say, but figured she’d talk when she was ready. “I’m glad you’re back,” he confessed after a moment.

CJ regarded him with soft eyes, getting distracted as Lydia detached herself from her breast. Automatically, Danny hoisted his daughter into his lap as CJ re-buttoned her blouse. She gathered her thoughts. “Me too,” she replied after a few seconds, grinning conspiratorially and playing at his shirt collar with her free hand. She lowered her voice. “Three nights is a lot.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Mmm.” She pulled him in for another kiss, which grew more passionate until they were interrupted by a fresh outburst from the understandably confused Lydia. They both pulled away suddenly and CJ laughed nervously.

“Well, it was bound to happen at some point,” Danny sighed, standing up and holding the crying Lydia close to his chest. 

“You wanna rock her while I call for takeout?”

“Sure,” he said, examining his daughter. “You know, I didn’t realize how much of a cockblocker babies are until we had one.”

CJ snorted. “Aren’t they kind of the result of there not being a cockblocker?”

“Not in our case. I haven’t forgotten how long it took for us to get lucky in that regard.”

“Trust me, I haven’t either.” CJ studied the menus pinned to the side of their refrigerator. “You up for sushi?”

“Sure. I’m gonna go try and put Lyd to bed.” He turned to the subject in question. “You hear that, sunshine? It’s past your bedtime.”

Lydia continued to cry, and although Danny personally thought the kid was being a bit dramatic, he loved her too much to judge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was gonna be fluff and plot but I'm just gonna put the actual plot in the next chapter because I spent so long on the fluff. Fun fact, my old babysitter was named Nadine! Also, I lived in LA as a kid and writing this is making me hella nostalgic.


	3. Newsworthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While reviewing the morning's paper, CJ and Danny come across an incendiary Op-Ed written by a familiar Republican Congressman.

**The next morning**

“Anything good in there?” Danny gestured to the copy of  _ The Washington Post  _ CJ was examining over breakfast.

“Not much. Looks like the healthcare bill isn’t gonna pass.” 

“Are we surprised?”

CJ shook her head. “Divided government is so overrated. Not a day goes by when I don’t want to fistfight James Madison.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You think you could fistfight James Madison?”

“Sure. Men were much shorter back then. Plus, he’d probably be too busy writing  _ The Federalist Papers  _ to see me coming.”

“Is it weird that I’m turned on by the thought?”

“Of me beating up James Madison?”

“Yeah.”

CJ raised an eyebrow. “Possibly. But you’ll have to settle for me complaining about how much I wanna bitch-slap the Majority Whip.”

“You know, with the ages of some of these guys, you’d think they’d be more inclined to, you know...” Danny trailed off.

“Support more comprehensive medical care for seniors?” CJ suggested.

“Something along those lines.”

CJ scoffed. “And despite the bewilderment of epidemiologists everywhere, Republicans are acting the same way they’ve acted for the last fifty years.”

“Go figure.”

“In other news, your successor continues to disappoint.”

Danny took a sip of coffee. “I was never super close with Ken.”

“You couldn’t have given him any tips?”

“You think I didn’t?”

She shot him a pointed look. “I’d have  _ thought _ the Senior White House Correspondent would’ve warmed up to the press room by now.” She turned back to the newspaper. “I mean, he and Sophia Kepler need to drop the whole Woodward and Bernstein routine. Vinick already tried to dig up the dirt on Santos. It didn’t work.”

“Matthew Santos is an anomaly. Even Bartlet had the MS thing going against him.”

“I know, but it makes the  _ Post  _ look stupid when they keep asking about Santos’s pristine health records.”

Danny held up his hands defensively. “Go call the editor if you want. I’m not your guy for this.”

CJ sighed exasperatedly, tilting back in her chair. “What’s the point of being married to a world-class journalist if he won’t even use his heavily lauded career to influence the press?”

Danny smiled, bending down to kiss her neck from behind. “I can think of a few reasons,” he said suggestively, whispering in her ear. 

“Don’t tease me before you have to leave for work, Danny.”

Danny’s voice was husky. “Who said anything about teasing? We’ve got what, fifteen minutes?” He trailed his hands down her front. CJ sighed appreciatively, considering his proposition before shaking her head. 

“We’ll wake Lydia. And besides, you’re already dressed.”

CJ was right; it was a miracle that their daughter was still sleeping. Danny sighed, rubbing her shoulders. “Alright, you win. Although to my defense, I seem to recall you having trouble keeping your hands off me last night.”

CJ smirked, tilting her head back to look up at him. “Is that an issue?”

“I never said it was. But  _ you _ don’t get to chide me for getting wound up.” He gave a quick peck at her lips before leaving to go grab his breakfast from the toaster. CJ continued scanning the paper. 

“Huh. This is weird.”

“What?”

“This Op-Ed. ‘Why Won’t Santos Condemn Palestinian Radicals?’”

Danny looked up from where he was buttering his bagel. “Who wrote it?”

CJ squinted to read the tiny print. She rolled her eyes when she saw the name. “Who else? Peter Lillienfield.” 

Danny looked affronted. “Who let Peter Lillienfield write for the  _ Washington Post _ ?”

“You think I know?”

He made his way over to her. “Let me read.” 

CJ handed him the paper and Danny read aloud. 

**Opinion: Why Won’t President Santos Condemn Palestinian Radicals?**

Congressman Peter Lillienfield (R-ID)

The United States has long benefitted from its friendly partnership with Israel, and as a member of the House of Representatives, I stand firm in my support for the Jewish nation’s legitimacy. As a concerned community member, however, I am appalled by the complete lack of support that President Santos has given to Israel during his administration, and even more disturbed by the lack of effort he has put towards combating the spread of extremist Arab groupthink in Gaza, the West Bank, and at home. 

Islamic terrorists have threatened our national security before, and today they are doing it again under the guise of progressivism. At colleges and urban centers across America, groups of Palestinian sympathizers are calling on their institutions to support the BDS Movement -- a radical leftist initiative calling for our nation to boycott, divest, and impose sanctions on Israel for simply existing. This movement completely undermines years of diplomacy on behalf of half a dozen presidents before Santos, and to legitimize it in the slightest would be a reprehensible offense.

Although former President Josiah Bartlet received criticism for his relatively soft approach to terrorism, his fumbles in the peacekeeping arena pale in comparison to those of President Matthew Santos. Nowhere in his official platform does Santos denounce the BDS Movement – in break from every president before him, including Bartlet – and although Secretary of State Arnold Vinick has been aggressive in his anti-terror policies elsewhere, the former Senator has not issued an official statement on behalf of the department concerning the lack of a condemnation. As a public servant, I ask: what is President Santos and his administration trying to hide?  **(continued on Page 9)**

Danny stopped reading at the end of the page, and after a moment of stunned silence, he burst out laughing. “I didn’t realize the  _ Post  _ had been bought by the  _ National Enquirer _ ,” he remarked, grinning and shaking his head. CJ’s face was serious.

“This is bad, Danny,” she said quietly after a moment.

Danny scoffed. “Come on, this is journalistic tripe.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s an obvious ploy for the election.”

“It’s a  _ huge _ blunder on behalf of the communications department.”

Danny deflected. “How is Lillienfield still in office? The man’s a joke.”

“Lillienfield doesn’t strike unless he’s got something.” CJ looked up at Danny, obvious worry in her eyes. “You remember how he was with Leo. If Lillienfield says Santos hasn’t denounced BDS, Santos hasn’t denounced BDS.”

Danny exhaled reluctantly, sitting down at the table across from CJ and putting the newspaper down. “You think so?”

“I know so.” She reached for her phone anxiously. “I’m gonna call Josh.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Danny quickly.

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s early–”

“It’s nearly nine in DC.”

“It’d be out of line. Josh can do his job.”

“Evidently not!” CJ’s voice had risen abruptly in pitch and volume, and the two sat in awkward silence for a few seconds.

Danny reached across the table to grab his wife's hand, and when he spoke, his voice was measured but direct. “CJ, I really think you should let the administration handle this.”

She took in a breath. “This is the kind of thing that can really backfire, Danny. I’ve seen it happen before.” She paused. “And it’s just the kind of ideological scandal that could make democrats lose the White House in November.”

Danny took a sip of his coffee, taking in the underlying meaning behind her words.

“You’re worried it wasn’t a screw up.”

CJ bit her bottom lip, staring at the article. “Santos is too smart to make this kind of rookie mistake.”

“You think the President hasn’t denounced BDS because he doesn’t want to?”

“I _ think _ Matthew Santos has always pushed the boundaries of what is acceptable,” CJ said firmly. 

Danny stared at her for a few moments, taking in what she had just said. His mind was swimming through a whirlwind of possible replies, all of which he knew would launch them into a mentally exhausting heart-to-heart that he most certainly did not have time for right now. He caught sight of his watch.

“Shit. I have to go.” He stood up and grabbed his messenger bag from a nearby chair.

“Right.” CJ shook her head instinctively, as if shrugging off an intrusive thought. “Sorry I freaked.”

“You didn't freak. You made a valid point."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I didn't make it weird?"

"Nope.  Enjoy your day off.”

CJ smiled weakly. “I’ll have a great time waiting impatiently for you to get back.”

Danny flashed her a grin. “Can’t say I won’t be looking forward to it myself.” He paused, rummaging around his bag for car keys before letting his gaze linger on CJ. She looked anxious and more than a little embarrassed, so Danny tried to sound as tender as possible when he said, “I love you. See you in a bit.”

CJ smiled in spite of herself. “I love you too.”

He bent down and kissed her one more time before heading for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed my Republican cosplay! I sent the fake Op-Ed to some friends who I've organized protests with, and they got a kick out of it.


	4. Take The Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CJ spends a day at home with Lydia, and catches the tail end of a rather painful White House Press Briefing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It really bugged me that Matt Santos never named a Press Secretary, so everyone, meet Arjun Dhar! Albeit not in his finest moment...

Thirty minutes after Danny had left for work, CJ remembered why she didn’t like days off. She was restless, she was wound up, and more than a little guilty for being snappy with Danny earlier that morning. More than anything, she wanted to call Josh and have him assure her that Lillienfield’s article was a nonstory, but she knew Danny was right – it would be out of line. It had been over three years since Matt Santos had taken office, and while CJ’d spent the first few months fending off Josh’s calls, she knew he didn’t really need her guidance anymore. But as much of a relief as that was, CJ couldn’t help but feel a little tug in her stomach when she remembered how grateful Josh’s voice sounded back in the day, when he’d hit her up at odd hours of the night with questions about the Kazakhstan debacle or the lobbying bill.

Luckily, Lydia’s rather loud way of saying “good morning” kept CJ’s mind busy for a few hours. The kid was at the age where she was just starting to form the beginnings of words, and it tickled CJ to no end when Lydia’s piercing syllables resembled her or Danny’s name. She let Lydia nurse while she reviewed her emails; it was Friday, and as she didn’t have any meetings scheduled, Margaret had insisted she take the day for herself. Her inbox was uncharacteristically clean – the only two items were a thank you note from Joseph Otim and Ngakiya Akullu and a memo from an EADB rep with a report from the Kampala region. There looked to be a few villages in the surrounding area which were isolated from the capital, from an infrastructure standpoint, and CJ was glad to see that they matched some of the names she’d gotten from the Ugandan organizers at their meeting a few days before. By the time she finished drafting a summary to send to Frank Hollis, Lydia was growing restless in her lap, so CJ figured that was her cue to stop working for the time being. 

“You tired of reading about the East African Development Bank?” she said warily to Lydia. CJ was met with a gargled coo in response, which she took as a yes.

“Me too,” she agreed. “Let’s have some fun.” 

In the process of baby-proofing their house, CJ and Danny had set up an impromptu arts area in the corner of their living room. The floor was lined with a large paper pad, on top of which sat an alarming number of loose crayons in every different color imaginable.

It had been a few months since Lydia had figured out how to pick up crayons, but ever since she had, drawing colorful scribbles had been one of her favorite pastimes. The fridge in the kitchen was covered in Lydia’s proto-artwork, so much so that Danny’d had to go out and buy more magnets in order to keep up with his daughter's prolific career.

CJ carefully put Lydia on the ground and watched her as she made a beeline to the corner, grabbing a vivid blue pastel and laughing happily as she shoved it into the paper pad on the floor. CJ was no artist herself, but she idly sketched a summery landscape as she watched Lydia work her magic. She noted how her daughter always opted for the brightest colors with which to experiment; after the blue, Lydia drew large circles with a shockingly vibrant shade of yellow before settling on a cotton-candy pink. 

The two continued like that for a bit: sprawled on the floor, drawing intently (or in Lydia’s case, erratically), with CJ making occasional remarks mostly to amuse herself. Lydia was a constant novelty, a development CJ had never really considered until she’d taken the leap and moved in with Danny. There were times when the sheer weight of raising a child felt even more overwhelming than being Chief of Staff, but there were also moments of lucidity, like this one, where she could almost see the connections forming in her daughter’s mind as she scribbled on the living room floor.

Eventually, Lydia began looking less enthusiastic about the whole “sitting down on the floor and making art with your mom” situation, and CJ figured it was time for her midday nap. She changed Lydia’s diaper before putting her to bed, and after sending Danny a quick text, CJ meandered over to the kitchen to heat up some of the leftover pasta. She turned on C-SPAN, mostly out of habit, and managed to catch the tail end of the 1pm White House Press Briefing. 

The Press Secretary was a young Indian-American man named Arjun Dhar who’d worked on the New York chapter of the Santos campaign. He was a smart hire, and any eyes other than CJ’s would see no issue with his quiet, yet resolute command of the press room. Indeed, even CJ thought Arjun’s approach was pretty solid, but his firm resolve was occasionally shattered by some of the Press Corps’ more pointed questions. Years behind the podium had taught CJ that you couldn’t take any bait the press threw at you, and as she watched the briefing, CJ wished she’d gotten the chance to give her successor that advice.

“...and the President will be meeting with Ambassador Morozova at 2pm in the Rose Garden to continue the trade discussion. That’s what I’ve got for today – any questions?” Arjun glanced around at his audience, his eyes lingering in the first few rows. 

“Steve?”

CJ heard a familiar voice. “Thanks, Arjun. Is the White House aware that the _Washington Post_ ran an Op-Ed this morning written by Congressman Peter Lillienfield?”

Arjun’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. “It’s been brought up.”

“Right. So you know that the article accuses the Santos administration of supporting Palestinian radicals. My question is, does Congressman Lillienfield’s claim have any basis, and if so, why hasn’t President Santos denounced BDS as part of his campaign platform?”

Arjun took a deep breath. “The President is committed to brokering peace between the Israeli and Palestinian people, and that has always been part of his campaign platform.”

“So why hasn’t he made more of an effort to separate himself from these more radical movements, especially given the US’s relationship with Israel?”

CJ’s heart pounded with secondhand anxiety as she watched Arjun formulate a response. “The President does not condone terrorism, and has taken great pains to support nonviolent peace-building initiatives on both sides of the conflict.”

He was avoiding the question, which wasn’t the worst strategy, but it also meant the administration didn’t have a straight answer. It also didn't help that he'd been the first person to mention the word "terrorism." A female voice called out, “You didn’t answer the question,” and Arjun closed his book, shaking his head.

“That’ll be all, everyone. I’ll see you at tomorrow’s briefing.”

CJ turned off the TV, reminding herself that she had no business worrying about what was happening over at her old place of employment. Nonetheless, she couldn’t deny that watching Arjun fumble like that had gotten her blood flowing. What were Josh and Louise _thinking_ , sending him out to the hyenas without a straight answer to a question they knew he’d be asked? And, by extension, what was Matthew Santos achieving by teetering on the edge of such an ideological controversy? 

CJ took in a breath, calming herself, and sent a text to Danny: _Just watched the press briefing. The BDS debacle’s gonna last a few more news cycles._

She was surprised when he responded almost immediately: _I know. We’re talking about it in class._

CJ supposed it wasn’t the strangest occurrence for journalism students to discuss the day’s news, but she wondered what was going on in Danny’s classroom that had brought the Israel/Palestine conflict to the focus of discussion… 


	5. The Dissenters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Danny, the best part of being a humanities professor are the long-winded tangential discussions he gets to facilitate in class. Although sometimes they get out of hand...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone, prepare yourself to meet Miranda Geller, the lesbian leftist icon we all need in our lives. Also a slew of colorful college students. I had way too much fun writing this.

**University of California, Los Angeles**

**Five minutes earlier**

“...and with that, it looks like we’re actually ahead of schedule for once,” said Danny, glancing at his watch as his students chuckled appreciatively. “We’ve got ten minutes – who’s up for a round of highs and lows?”

Danny’s proposition was met with a slew of eager hands.

“Jason?”

A broad-shouldered kid in the front row spoke. “The _L.A. Times_ ran a feature this morning about the legacy of the Sierra Club in California. They interviewed one of the representatives.”

Danny considered. “You know, I didn’t get the chance to read that. High or low?”

“I’d say a high because it was true and objective. And in a pluralist model for democracy, we want the press to engage interest groups.”

“Good point.” Danny gestured to the class. “Any dissenters?”

Valerie Miller, one of the students who was writing the opinion piece for the _Daily Bruin_ , raised her hand. “I disagree with the objective part. I felt the article shied away from the more ugly parts of the Sierra Club’s history.”

Mike Burbank, a senior from Florida, countered. “Such as?”

“Wasn’t John Muir, like, really racist towards Black and Indigenous people?” asked Samir Khader, a sophomore who was also working on the _Bruin_ piece.

“He was friends with the guy who started the American Eugenics Society,” Valerie added.

Danny nodded. “Right, Samir and Valerie. Nice job doing your research. So how would you guys approach the article had it been assigned to you? Keep in mind the principles we’ve gone over. Ena?” 

“Well, I’d ask about the history in the interview with the rep. If he wasn’t prepared to answer the questions, I’d let the public do the analyzing. Impartiality and fairness.”

Valerie’s hand shot up. “But what about public accountability? Do we trust readers to make that leap?”

Danny loved when his students would make these kinds of connections in their discussions; it was part of why he often tried to fit in this particular exercise at the end of class. He grinned at Valerie and Ena.

“That’s the question you constantly have to be asking yourself. Do we, as reporters, have a responsibility to frame these kinds of issues so the public can digest them? Or are we supposed to be objective bystanders?”

“Someone should ask the _Post_ editors that same question,” said Samir quietly. The class tittered. Danny looked over at him.

“Samir, wanna talk about that more?”

The kid smiled weakly. “Sure. I’d say Peter Lillienfield’s Op-Ed from this morning is a definite low, as far as journalistic integrity is concerned. It was filled with far-right dogwhistles, and was more propaganda than fact.”

Danny gestured to the class. “What do you all think? Mike.”

“I think Lillienfield’s language was certainly inflammatory, but he made a good point.”

Valerie scoffed. “Seriously?”

Mike pressed on. “The US has an important relationship with Israel. If President Santos isn’t going to keep that up, he should be honest about it.”

Danny’s phone had buzzed in the middle of Mike’s sentence. He read it quickly, typed a quick response, then looked back up at the class. 

“You know, it’s funny that this should come up – CJ just texted me. She was watching the White House press briefing, and says Arjun Dhar was evading that very question. What does that tell us?”

Mike called out without raising his hand. “That the Santos administration is too chicken to denounce Palestinian terrorists.”

His statement was met with a general uproar from the class, with Valerie and Samir looking positively mutinous. Danny tried to diffuse the situation.

“Hey Mike, watch the rhetoric. We wanna keep this civil.”

Valerie spoke, and Danny could tell she was trying hard to keep her voice level. “Professor Concannon, I agree that the Santos administration is chickening out, but in the opposite way as Mike suggested. The Israeli government has been oppressing the Palestinians for decades. If Santos wants to pursue an equitable peace plan, he should acknowledge that history.”

Mike Burbank’s voice was vitriolic. “The US government doesn’t bargain with terrorists, Valerie. If the Palestinians want peace, they should stop sending rocket bombs into Jerusalem.”

Danny knew the conversation was getting derailed, but Valerie fanned the flames before he could intervene. “But it’s okay for the Israeli army to displace thousands of Palestinians from their homes?”

Mike stood his ground. “It’s inherently antisemetic to be against the state of Israel.”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “You know Mike, as a Jewish person myself, I’m glad you made that observation.”

A chorus of appalled _ohhhh_ ’s from the class followed this crossfire, and Danny sighed. He didn’t like raising his voice, but he felt it was warranted on this occasion. " _Guys, come on_.” The class went quiet as Danny continued, trying to ease the tension. “I know you’re all passionate, but we can’t let this can’t get out of hand. Has anyone got anything _productive_ to contribute?”

There was silence from the class before Samir raised a tentative hand. He spoke quietly but decisively, looking directly at Mike. “Sorry, I don’t want to harp on this too long, but my uncle lives in the West Bank. He has Crohn’s disease and he isn’t getting access to good healthcare because of the Separation Wall.” He paused, and took a breath. “The Fourth Geneva Convention requires that, as an occupying power, Israel provides healthcare to the people under its occupation. If the state isn’t fulfilling that duty, it should be held responsible.”

The class was silent for a few moments; Samir looked nervous, Valerie looked triumphant, and for a moment Mike Burbank looked like he was about to say something, but decided against it. Danny watched his students as they dealt with their discomfort, choosing his words carefully before he spoke.

“Thanks for sharing, Samir. I hate to leave you all like this, but it looks like we’re out of time.” Danny paused. “Listen, I love these discussions as much as you guys do, and I want us to be able to keep having them.” He looked intently at Mike, then Samir, then Valerie. “ _So_. Can I trust us all to be a little more respectful when we meet again on Monday?”

There was a murmur of assent among the students. Danny shot them a half smile. “Okay. You’re dismissed.”

As the class gathered their things and began shuffling out of the lecture hall, Danny was struck with an idea. He grabbed his cell phone and sent a quick message to Professor Miranda Geller: _You got anything right now?_

A response ten seconds later read: _Nope. What’s up?_

 _Meet me at my office in two minutes,_ Danny replied.

Valerie Miller and Samir Khader were deep in conversation, and Danny called out to them as they went to exit the room. “Hey, you two. Got anywhere to be right now?”

They both nodded, but Danny shook his head. “That was a rhetorical question. Come with me to my office.”

The two kids looked confused but curious as Danny led them through the bowels of the Communications Building. When they reached his office, Professor Geller was already there, admiring some of the photos Danny’d hung up on the walls. Professor Geller was tall (although not as tall as CJ), and she wore her hair in a vibrant red headscarf. Although a sociologist by trade, she taught courses in everything from carceral geography to Middle Eastern studies. And while Danny privately found her a bit intimidating, Professor Geller had this way of seeing the roots of problems that Danny had grown to appreciate. 

Samir and Valerie looked surprised to see Professor Geller as Danny ushered them in. “Thanks for coming, Miranda,” he said gratefully.

Professor Geller smiled. “No problem, Danny. These are some great shots you’ve got up here.”

Danny gestured to the one she’d been studying; it was a portrait of a grinning Danny standing on the White House lawn holding a goldfish bowl. “That’s one of my favorites, actually,” he remarked. “My colleague Mark took that back during Bartlet’s first term.” He smiled bashfully. “I’d bought CJ a goldfish in an attempt to woo her. Mark thought it was the funniest thing ever.”

Miranda laughed. “Not big on dignity, were you?”

Danny shook his head. “Never have been. But that’s not why we’re here.” He gestured to Samir and Valerie. “I’ve abducted these two from their next lecture.”

“So you have. It’s nice to see you both.”

Samir uttered a respectful greeting as Danny opened some folding chairs he had sitting in the corner of the room. “Could you three sit down with me for a moment?”

They nodded, and made themselves comfortable. Danny sat down at his desk and ran a hand through his hair before speaking.

“Look,” he started. “Samir, Valerie, you saw what happened in class today.”

The two kids nodded uncomfortably. Miranda looked curious. “What happened?”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “Mike Burbank was being an imperialist asshole, Professor Geller.” 

“Hey, Valerie – what I said about respect still applies,” Danny said pointedly. Samir was looking down at his hands, and Professor Geller looked slightly amused. Danny continued. “That being said, I’ve been thinking about the article you guys showed me yesterday. Miranda, they said you were advising them with it?”

Professor Geller nodded, and Samir spoke up. “I looked over the edits you suggested, Professor Concannon, and I incorporated them into the piece. Like you said, the language had to be toned down–”

Danny shook his head. “I think you guys should publish it.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow, Professor Geller grinned, and Samir blanched.

“What?”

Danny reiterated himself. “I think you should publish the article as is. If anything, add a few sentences drawing on the Santos situation. Use it to your advantage.”

Valerie was nodding, slowly at first but then more vigorously. “Right, it adds legitimacy. We’d be seizing the moment!”

Danny turned to Professor Geller. “What do you think?”

Professor Geller considered. “I don’t think it’ll be very popular, but I think it’s right. We’re lucky enough to exist in an academic space where innovative ideas are more acceptable.” She paused. “And if UCLA wants to tout itself as the pillar of free speech it tries so hard to be, I think the institution should hear your case.”

Valerie was getting excited. “Do you think we could get more people to sign off on the letter? I mean, we’ve made explicit demands for the university’s divestment. Maybe this could start something.”

“My wife and I would be glad to sign your letter,” said Professor Geller. “And I know some organizers from Jewish Voice for Peace who might be able to gather some more names.” She looked to Danny, who put his hands up by his head.

“I’ll sign, and I’ll ask CJ about it too. You guys have done one hell of a job of convincing me.”

Miranda chuckled. “Starting to see things from outside the White House bubble, are you?”

Danny grinned. “Something like that.”

Valerie was beaming. “Thank you so much Professor Geller, Professor Concannon. Samir, do you think you’d be able to incorporate the stuff about Santos into the piece?”

Samir nodded. “What time frame are we working with?”

Professor Geller thought for a moment. “I’ll ask Dr. Boehm if he’s still taking submissions for Monday’s paper. If you could get me a final draft by tonight, I can send it to him just as quickly.”

The four sat in stunned silence for a few moments, taking what had been said. Professor Geller looked proud, Samir looked a bit disbelieving, and Valerie looked as if Christmas had come early. Danny, for one, felt reckless and exhilarated; the limits of the acceptable seemed trivial from his sun-drenched office, and if UCLA or White House couldn’t handle a call for radical change, that was their problem. All Danny knew was that the future of the world lay in the hands of the two young people who sat before him, and that he had never felt half as inspired during his time in Washington as he did now, as he sat listening to them. He grinned.

“Then that’s full a lid, as we used to say in the press room,” he remarked. “I’ve got another lecture to prepare for, I’m sure Professor Geller has things to do, and you two are late for something, right?”

Valerie nodded as she stood up, and Samir looked slightly pained. “That’s a Tolstoy seminar you have me missing, Professor Concannon. I’m gonna be behind.”

Danny shrugged. “You know, I never read _War and Peace_ and I became a perfectly good journalist.”

Samir and Valerie left the office after a polite goodbye to the two adults. Professor Geller stayed behind.

“Nice going, Concannon,” she said, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly, forming a slight smile. “It’s good to have you on board.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize these last few updates have been heavy on exposition and light on actual CJ/Danny content, so I promise there's more of them coming! I had to do some major setting up to frame the fundamental issue in this story, which will be explored in the context of their relationship in the next chapter.
> 
> I also realize that I'm writing this story from a very specific political perspective, and I completely understand if you disagree with some of the characters. All is fair in the world of fanfiction writing, as I've learned these past few weeks, so I hope you'll bear with me, and stay for the thematic material even if you came for the CJ/Danny fluff.


	6. A Question of Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A metamorphosis, of sorts.

**Later that day**

Danny opened the front door with a flourish, calling out into the front hall. “ _Claudia Jean? Lydia Michelle?_ I would like to formally report that my faith in the human race has been restored.”

He kicked off his shoes jovially as CJ entered the living room with a finger to her lips.

“ _Danny_ …”

Danny grinned. “And _there’s_ my lovely wife. C’mere, let me sweep you up in my arms and take you like a man.”

CJ shook her head, laughing silently. “Calm down, James Dean. _Lydia Michelle_ is asleep in the next room.”

Danny blinked. “It’s five thirty. How’d you get that to happen?”

“She’s crashed from a long day of making art and listening to me complain about Uganda.”

“How come she’s always asleep when _I’m_ home?”

“Hm. Maybe she thinks you’re boring.”

Danny cocked his head to the side. “You know what? I’m gonna choose to ignore what you just insinuated.”

CJ raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.” 

“Are you trying to gaslight me?”

“Now who’s insinuating?”

“Because normally, y’know, that’s supposed to be my area.”

“Are you _good_?”

Danny grinned mischievously. “For your information, I had an incredibly productive and inspiring afternoon. How was _your_ great day of rest and relaxation?”

CJ sighed. “Mind-numbing. I spent most of it making a list of the things I’d like to do to you tonight.”

“That’s good to hear. Real list or mental list?”

“A mental list, but I can recite it to you if you’d like.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Should I be scared?”

CJ made a mock pensive expression, hooking her fingers on Danny’s trousers and pulling him close. “Hmm. That depends.”

Danny slid a hand up her neck into her hair, taking in the smell of her shampoo. “On what?”

CJ whispered something into Danny’s ear, and he barely stifled a moan. 

“I’ll take my chances,” he conceded, his voice gravelly. “By the way, you look astonishingly beautiful tonight, have I mentioned?”

CJ sighed, pressing her body against his. “ _Mmmm_. Maybe once or twice.”

Danny placed an affectionate kiss on her lips before breaking out of her embrace and shrugging off his blazer. “Alright. All that sounds wonderful, but don’t let me get distracted; I have something I need to get in for the _Bruin_ before I let you tire me out.”

“Can’t escape the pull of the press?”

“Something like that. It’s these _kids_ , man, they’re out of their mind–”

“The impassioned ones you mentioned yesterday?”

Danny’s eyes were bright. “Yeah, but they’re _great_. They know how to write an argument.”

CJ sat herself down at a stool on the kitchen counter while Danny put his messenger bag down on a nearby armchair.

“Here, let me grab it. They’re collecting signatures on it, so if you sign it now I can send it to Miranda tomorrow.” He rummaged through the bag, finding the folder holding the article. He took it out, grinning, and slid it across the counter to CJ. 

“Here, read it, it’s something. This kid, Samir, he can _write_.”

Danny was so wrapped up in his own excitement that he didn’t catch the blank look on CJ’s face as she silently read over the article.

By the time she’d finished, her guarded expression had morphed into one of blatant shock. She looked at Danny, her eyebrows raised. 

“Danny, you know I can’t sign this.”

The temperature in the room suddenly seemed to have dropped several degrees.

He blinked. “You can’t?”

CJ rested her forehead on her hands. “You know I can’t, and honestly, you shouldn’t either.”

“What do you–”

“I can’t sign it.”

Danny was confused. “Why not?”

CJ sighed, shaking her head. She gestured to the article. “This is – it’s a _fringe_ piece, Danny. It’s – abrasive, it’s combative, it’s almost a manifesto–”

Danny laughed nervously. “I told you, these kids are passionate, CJ.”

“No,” she corrected, standing up and walking over to the couch across the room, “They’re hostile.” She sat down. “And they’re not gonna convince the university to divest from Israel, or whatever they’re demanding, and you shouldn’t be helping them.”

Now it was Danny’s turn to look shocked. “Why are you telling _me_ what to do?”

“We can’t put our names on stuff like this!”

“ _Why not?_ ”

“ _Because_ ,” CJ began, struggling to hide the frustration from her voice, “I work for one of the most well-known charitable foundations in the country, and before that, _if you’ve somehow forgotten_ , I took a two-year stint at one of the most high-profile jobs in the _world_! Not to mention six years as the government’s most visible spokesperson.”

She looked at Danny, disbelieving. “And I’d have thought you _,_ of all people, would know _exactly_ what would happen if word got out that I put my name on something like this.”

Danny shook his head. “It’s a letter, CJ, it’s a _daydream–_ ”

“Then they don’t need my support.”

“They _need_ every bit of support they can get!”

“Did you see the press briefing today?”

“What, you think I had time to–”

“ _Did you see the press briefing today?”_

Danny sighed and shook his head. CJ continued, eyes flashing.

“Well, _I did_. And Arjun Dhar, bless his soul, did the best he could damn well do, but he didn’t have an answer when the reporters asked him to condemn BDS. He couldn’t denounce it, Danny, you know what that _means_?”

“ _Why are you so hung up about this?_ ”

CJ wasn’t listening. “It means that Matthew Santos is seriously considering endorsing a group that every president before him has _vilified_ –”

“Whatever happened to _Let Bartlet be Bartlet_?”

CJ’s voice had become desperate, almost pleading. “You don’t get it, Danny; there are expectations, even after I'm in office; there are conventions–”

“ _Conventions_ ? Are you _hearing_ yourself?”

“There are conventions, Danny, whether you want to admit it or not–”

Danny looked incredulous. “This isn’t a matter of _convention_ , CJ. It’s a question of humanity!” 

The statement hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity. Danny knew he’d struck a chord because CJ’d unconsciously bit her bottom lip, and her gaze was focused intently on a far-off corner of the room, away from his own. When Danny continued, he willed his voice to be softer. 

“It’s a question of humanity, CJ, and you should know that better than anyone. You’ve spent the last three years of your life cleaning up the mess that white imperialists made in Africa. You’ve seen what happens when you colonize an entire people.”

CJ’s eyes were gleaming with tears, and she still wasn’t meeting his gaze. “I can’t do it, Danny.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t sign the article.”

“ _Why not?_ ”

“ _Because_ it would mean rejecting eight years of my life.” She hugged her arms around herself anxiously. “It would mean rejecting eight years that have _defined_ my life; it would mean rejecting Josh and the former President and Toby and _Leo_.” 

Danny was silent for a minute, trying to make sense of the situation. He knew he was pushing it, and he cursed himself for being so forward on something she was so obviously not prepared for. CJ’s cheeks were flushed and she looked overwhelmed, the same way she had looked back in 2007 when she’d come over to his place in DC and tried to tell him that she’d missed the window. Danny’d been honest with her that day, and that was how he’d gotten to her. He decided it was worth seeing if the strategy would work twice.

“You know, Professor Geller told me something interesting today.”

CJ’s eyes narrowed. “She did?”

“She said I was finally seeing things from outside the White House bubble.”

CJ scoffed. “Well, _that’s_ not condescending at all.”

Danny nodded seriously. “You’re right, it’s easy for her to say. But it got me thinking.”

CJ didn’t say anything, but turned to look expectantly at him, waiting for him to continue.

Danny mused, thinking aloud. “I think if Miranda Geller worked in the White House, she’d have a hard time supporting the BDS movement. Or decriminalizing drugs, or pushing for slavery reparations, or any of the issues she’s a staunch advocate for now.” He paused, considering. “And I don’t think it’s because she’s a weak-willed person. You’ve seen her in action; remember when she spoke at the protest in January? She was awe-inspiring.”

CJ nodded weakly. Danny continued.

“But I think the White House forces you to compromise on things you never dreamed you’d have to compromise.” He stood up, making his way over to the couch and sitting down across from her. “It makes you accept things that any sane person wouldn’t find acceptable. And it drives good people mad. I saw it with Bartlet and I see it with Santos.”

“What’s your point?” 

“My _point_ is that you and I don’t work in the White House anymore.” Danny spoke deliberately, keeping his gaze on her averted eyes as he sat down by her side. “We don’t have to compromise on things we believe.”

“So you’re saying you support BDS?”

Danny sighed in sudden frustration. “ _God_ , CJ, you’re missing the point! Yes, I support putting economic pressure on a government that systematically oppresses the people indigenous to its land, but–”

“You’re oversimplifying the situation–”

Danny shook his head, smiling exasperatedly. “I’m not forcing you to support it, CJ. Don’t sign the letter, it’s fine with me, seriously.” CJ’s expression was doubtful, still unable to look Danny in the eyes. “Look at me, CJ. _Look at me_.”

CJ forced herself to meet Danny’s piercing gaze. She’d seen this look on him before; in her office before she left for Rosslyn, across from her in the restaurant when he’d asked her to jump off a cliff, and, most notably, on their disastrous lunch date towards the end of Bartlet’s second term. It was a look she still didn’t quite know how to deal with, and now was no exception. Danny continued, his voice low and emphatic.

“If you _do_ support it, and you don’t sign this because you’re scared of what people are gonna think, I can’t respect that.”

He let the weight of his words hang in the air. 

As much as her body wanted to, CJ didn’t dare let herself cry. Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat and took a breath. She spoke slowly, willing her voice not to break.

“There was this time, when I was Press Secretary – after you’d left the White House the first time. Toby let slip that we were renewing our weapons deal with Qumar.” She paused. “And I was so _angry_ , Danny. I was _infuriated._ I mean, you know what they do to women there.”

Danny nodded silently.

“And all day long I bothered anyone and everyone I could about it. I went to Toby and I went to Leo and I went to Nancy McNally. I mean, I _pleaded_ with Nancy McNally.” CJ laughed nervously. “That’s not an easy thing to do.” 

“It’s not.”

“And all I could think about was how there had _got_ to be some way, some loophole, some _virtue_ of my position that I could exploit to make a difference, you know? I mean, there I was, sitting in my west wing office, a key advisor to the leader of the free world, and… there was nothing I could do.” She bit her lip. “I was powerless. We kept selling them weapons and they kept beating their women.”

Danny’s eyes were wide. “Wow. Yeah.”

CJ blinked the last couple of tears out of her eyes and took a breath. “I can’t sign this letter, Danny, because I don’t know enough about Samir and Valerie’s take on the situation to make an informed decision.”

Danny nodded. “Okay. That’s all I needed to–”

“ _But_ ,” CJ interrupted, “I’d like to learn more. I think the point you brought up about imperialism is relevant to my work at the Hollis Foundation.” She paused. “Would you mind if I wrote to Samir and Valerie myself?”

“Not at all.” Danny reached out and brushed the back of his hand across CJ’s face. It was a gesture he’d made countless times over the course of their relationship, but it was so tender that it never failed to give CJ butterflies. “Listen, I’m sorry I pushed this on you.”

CJ smiled wearily, shaking her head. “It’s been building up ever since I got back.”

“Do you mind if I put my name on it? The letter, I mean.”

CJ took in a breath. “Danny, you don’t need to ask that.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. I need to let this go. And you need to support your students.”

Danny nodded. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“Thank _you_.” And CJ meant it. As much as Danny’s tenacity drove her crazy, it also served as a grounding force for her all-too-often preoccupied mind. 

Danny yawned dramatically, spreading himself out on the couch. “Well, I’m glad we worked _that_ out.” He was only half-joking and CJ knew it, but she smiled anyway as she wormed her way into his arms. They stayed like that for a bit, holding space for each other, until a thought occurred to Danny and he suddenly sat bolt upright.

“ _Shit_. You know what I forgot to do?”

“You forgot to get groceries?”

“I forgot to get groceries.”

CJ laughed, her head against his chest. “You should’ve told me. I could’ve gotten them.”

“Does the word ‘forgot’ mean anything to you?” Danny shook his head, playing with her hair. “And plus, you were on explicit orders from Margaret and I to stay home with Lydia.”

CJ looked up at him. “What is this, _The Yellow Wallpaper_?”

“We’re gonna have to order takeout again. There’s nothing good in the fridge.”

“How romantic. It’s almost like we’re back in my office watching the doomed foreign aid vote.”

“Old habits die hard.”

CJ frowned. “Do you think we get takeout so often because we’re subconsciously trying to relive our time in the White House?”

“I think we get takeout so often because you’re a terrible cook,” Danny said pointedly, kissing the top of her head before extricating himself from her embrace. As he walked over to where his cell phone sat on the counter, he turned back to CJ, his gaze suddenly tentative.

“Hey. We’re good on this?” 

CJ sucked in a breath and then nodded decisively. “Yeah. We’re good.”

“Okay. Just making sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, and thanks for sticking with me on this one. I'm gonna include one more chapter to tie everything up.


	7. Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moments that define a lifetime can come when you're least prepared for them.

**Two weeks later**

“You look comfortable.”

Danny’s eyes were closed as he lay blissfully on the picnic blanket. “I could see why. I’m thinking about how at peace I am with the world.”

CJ looked doubtful. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re at peace with the world?”

“Yep. I’m approaching Nirvana, as a matter of fact.”

CJ considered. “That’s funny.”

“How come?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I seem to remember you spending a large portion of last night on a feverish rant about the frivolity of establishment democratic politics. And before that you were helping Miranda Geller organize a protest.”

“Sure.”

“Am I remembering correctly?”

“You are.”

“Not very at peace, were you?”

“That was last night. Today is now.” Danny took a long, contented exhale. “And I can be at peace with the world and still hate the government.”

“You can?”

“Yep.”

“Danny, you realize I _was_ the government for a hot minute?”

Danny kept his eyes closed as he smiled. “I know.”

“And you didn’t hate me,” CJ said pointedly as she bounced Lydia in her lap.

“You were too cute. I set my sights on Josh Lyman instead.”

“Right. Nice going there, pal.”

Danny opened his eyes, turning on his side to look over at CJ and propping his head up with his hand. “‘Pal’? That’s a new one.”

“Would you prefer ‘freakboy’?”

“Maybe?”

“I can do ‘nimrod’ too, if you like.”

“Claudia Jean, I have no objection to you referring to me by any name you called me during the administration. But ‘pal’ is a little too libido-killing, even for my taste.”

CJ feigned surprise. “Really?”

“Really.”

She sat Lydia down on the picnic blanket before leaning down to kiss her husband. She felt his smile widen as she teased his lips with her tongue, lingering for longer than she had to before breaking away.

Danny grinned. “Now I’m _really_ at peace with the world.”

“And you’re leaving me to watch the baby, I see.”

“Yep.”

CJ sighed dramatically. “A woman’s work never ends.”

Danny closed his eyes again, making himself comfortable on the blanket. “Something like that.” 

But CJ was content as she watched her daughter mess around in the grass. Griffith Park was a bit of a drive from Santa Monica, but she was glad they’d made the trip. Her week had been exhilarating but exhausting, and she needed the weekend to decompress.

The Hollis Foundation was moving full speed ahead on the Uganda project while simultaneously analyzing a shipment of new performance reports from Namibia. Between all the calling and planning and organizing, CJ’d managed to squeeze in a meeting between Frank, Valerie, and Samir, where the latter two had given an excellent (if slightly starstruck) presentation on combating imperialism in Western humanitarian work. It was heavy stuff, and Frank had been a bit appalled by it, but CJ had privately thought the students’ points made a lot of sense. Change in Africa, if it was going to last, needed to come from empowering the people, instead of allocating resources from the top down – there was enough populism left in CJ for her to know that. But it still helped to hear it from others.

She’d also had a one-on-one Skype with Ngakiya Akullu the day before, which she'd been worrying about due to the weird undertones she’d gotten from the organizer back in Philadelphia. The meeting had started out as a simple review of finances for the Uganda project, but after CJ had off-handedly mentioned the imperialism presentation, it had turned far more interesting.

It turned out that Ngakiya had written her Masters’ thesis on the modern-day effects of imperialism in Africa, and was a frequent contributor to Uganda Forward, an anticolonialist, pro-liberation zine distributed in Kampala. Kiya’d admitted her initial skepticism about working with the Hollis Foundation was because they were an aid group stemming from the fortune of an American billionaire. “Ugandans don’t want handouts;” she had said, “they want empowerment.” But she also agreed with CJ that the highway they were planning to build would have huge implications for those living around it, and was more than happy to move ahead with the project, especially if they could continue the conversation. CJ had left the meeting with a host of new questions, but she couldn't deny that the prospect of learning more excited her. Needless to say, she'd asked Margaret to set up another meeting.

Danny’s mind, on the other hand, was relaxed for the first time in awhile. The BDS article had made a minor splash around campus, but the message was dampened by Arjun Dhar’s press conference on Saturday, wherein he’d announced that “the Santos administration does not support the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions movement.” Ah, well. Danny couldn’t really blame the communications department for reeling in the rhetoric, but it still came as an irritating reminder that the U.S. government was still suffering from a lack of political imagination.

The argument he and CJ’d had two weeks prior had scared him in the moment, but looking back, he was grateful they’d been able to work through it. While yes, it felt weird to be going through an ideological metamorphosis halfway through his life, the new perspectives Danny was gaining post-DC were important to him, and he needed CJ as a partner in this. He was eternally grateful that despite hesitations, she’d kept an open mind. And plus, it wasn’t as if CJ had played it safe during her time in the White House, anyway. Danny knew her aspirations had always been far bigger than anything an executive order could accomplish – that was part of what had drawn him to her. 

Today, however, Danny’s inner ideologue was on break. The picnic had been his idea, and Griffith Park was just far away enough to make their sojourns there feel like vacations. He listened to the sounds of other young families making their way through the park. He could hear children galloping around the playground, some as young as Lydia but most a bit older. He could feel the rise and fall of CJ’s chest, and noticed his own breathing evening out as he lay next to her. And although his eyes were shut firmly, he could picture the way the sunlight reflected off of CJ’s beautiful face in near-perfect clarity.

CJ’s astonished whisper broke his reverie. “ _Danny._ ”

“What?”

“Open your eyes.”

“CJ, I’m a bit preoccupied here.”

“You’re absolutely not.”

“I’m living in the moment.”

“You’re missing it _,”_ she hissed.

“Missing what?”

“ _Look at our daughter._ ”

He sat up suddenly, his eyes wide. “Oh my god. Is she–”

“She is.”

“ _Oh my god._ ”

Danny frantically rummaged through the backpack that lay on the picnic blanket, his heart racing. “I can’t find the camera,” he said, his voice a bit panicked. CJ paid no heed; she was busy staring at Lydia in rapture as the kid used her small, chubby arms to slowly stand herself up.

“ _Did you forget the camera?”_

CJ’s smile was one of pure awe. “Shhh, she’s doing it!”

Danny gave up the doomed search for the camera and watched his daughter as she struggled to maintain her balance on two legs. She took one hesitant, wobbly, step forward before collapsing onto grass in a fit of giggles. The couple spent a moment staring at each other in disbelief before Danny hoisted Lydia up by her torso and embraced her.

He beamed. “ _Nice one,_ Lyd!”

CJ was laughing in shock as she put her arms around Danny, pulling him down onto the ground, kissing the side of his face profusely. They crashed dramatically onto the ground, but the grass was soft enough to cushion their backs as they fell. A sudden gust of ocean wind prompted CJ to curl up closer to Danny, who had Lydia on his chest. She shivered, but despite the momentary chill CJ felt contentedly warm as she settled down next to him, as if she’d just downed a mug of hot tea. 

“Dr. Jacobs said first steps should happen around 12 months.” CJ interlocked her fingers with Danny’s free hand. “Lydia’s two weeks early.”

Danny raised an eyebrow, his gaze on Lydia. “Yeah, well, maybe she’s an overachiever. I bet she takes after her mother.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Pulitzer.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t bring the camera.”

“Oh, calm down. Whatever happened to living in the moment?”

“I’m a reporter, CJ. I'm prone to documenting these kinds of things.”

“That's tough.”

Danny managed a small smile. “It's okay. I'll live with it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and that's a wrap for that particular slice of life for our good friends CJ and Danny. Happy Valentine's Day! I have one disclaimer for this chapter: Uganda Forward is a zine I completely made up, so I'm sorry if you wanted to check out one of their issues.
> 
> Anyway, if you're reading this, thank you so much. Every kudo and comment has meant the world to me!

**Author's Note:**

> One of the themes I want to explore the most with my CJ/Danny stories is how their experience post-White House shapes how they reflect on their work there. Confession time: as much as I love TWW, I'm rather disillusioned with the American electoral system as it works now, because I don't think it does a great job of fixing problems caused by systemic injustices (I also think a lot of global human rights crises have been caused and/or exacerbated by U.S. intervention in the name of freedom and democracy). This is mostly me projecting that cognitive dissonance onto CJ and Danny as they navigate their lives in California, but don't worry, there'll be lots of fluff/humor/soul searching in this as well!
> 
> Also I might not be super consistent with updating this because school is a bitch, but I'll try my best to be regular about it. Kudos and comments are appreciated! :)


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